


No. 9 For the Greater Good (Lancelot)

by Onehelluvapilot



Series: Whumptober 2020 [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Scene expansion from my other work The Gates of Hell. This one should make sense without it, and you can just read this one if you want to avoid the character death, but the full work will give you more context.The Hunters of the Round Table find the spell to close the Gates of Hell. The only problem is, they know that the trials will kill anyone who completes them.
Relationships: Gwen & Lancelot (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952440
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	No. 9 For the Greater Good (Lancelot)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Gates of Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880304) by [Onehelluvapilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot). 



When they found the spell to close the gates of Hell, it felt like a godsend. Which it was, in the most literal sense of the word. To be able to prevent any more demon deals, any more hellhound killings, etc. with just a fairly simple couple of spells was monumental. It would save thousands of lives a year, if not more. The only hitch was the fact that it would kill whoever performed it.

Arthur, of course, offered to be the one to do it, to which both Merlin and Gwen objected fiercely. He was the last true Man of Letters; it was his destiny to restart the organization and bring about its golden age, and he couldn't do that if he was dead. Merlin was less public with his plans, but he announced to Lancelot that he had no intention of letting Arthur sacrifice himself, and if he had to die himself or use his powers to stop it, he made it clear that he would.

Gwen was out on a hunt when they came across some police reports that were clearly referring to a hellhound collecting souls, which they needed for the first of the three spells. She couldn’t leave in the middle of her own hunt to join them herself, but she did call Lancelot to talk to him about it before they headed out.

"I know I have no right to ask," she said, "but please, look out for Arthur."

"I will," he promised. And when the time came, he didn’t even hesitate to throw himself between the other hunters and the hellhound. His holy glasses were nearly knocked from his face when he was slammed onto his back, but they stayed on and he was able to see the terrible black slathering maw of the dog as it tried to rip his throat out. Using the demon-killing knife, he slit the beast’s own neck open. He had to turn his head to the side to keep the black blood from splashing to his mouth, and roll quickly out from under the body when it collapsed. He came up to one knee and looked around to see that every other hunter was staring at him.

“I guess it’s me then,” he said solemnly. He was surprised to notice that he wasn’t sad about it, despite knowing that it meant his death. His friends would live, and this was something he could do for them. His sacrifice would make their lives safer. Looking to Merlin though, he realized that they might not appreciate it so much. His best friend looked shattered. He wanted to take the time to go comfort him, but he knew the spell was time sensitive and he had to say the words quickly.  “Can you remind me of the words?” Merlin didn’t react, so it was Leon who brought him over the scrap of paper with the spell written on it.

“It was supposed to be me,” Arthur said, the emotion in his voice indecipherable. Lancelot took off his blood-smeared holy glasses so he could see him clearly, as well as the words.

“I’m glad it’s not,” he replied. The lead Man of Letters had a destiny to fulfill. He couldn’t die yet. Lancelot could. “Kah nuh ahm dar.” Instantly, pain flared through his forearms, strong enough to force him down to one knee. Merlin was by his side in an instant.

“Lance! Lancelot, what’s going on, talk to me!” he demanded, sounding frantic. The hunter wasn’t able to reply for a minute, too breathless from the agony and shocked by the way his forearms had begun to glow. After a minute, that felt much longer, both the orange light and the pain faded slightly, and he was able to suck in enough breath to reply.

“I’m fine,” he hissed, desperate to reassure his friend. He didn’t want to hurt any of them more than he needed to. “I’m okay, really.” He straightened up, right into Merlin’s forehead.

“No, you’re really not,” his friend said, and those words brought tears to both of their eyes as they pressed their heads together, Merlin’s hands coming up to hold Lancelot’s face. It hit him suddenly that dying wasn’t just dying, it meant giving up all the years he might have had with his friends. He still planned to go through with it, but he didn’t quite want to anymore. Merlin sniffed, a few tears falling, before he took Lancelot under the elbow and helped him stand up. “C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up. We’ll leave the others to deal with the hellhound body.”


End file.
